


Frequency

by Stregatrek



Series: Femslash February 2020 [6]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Margaret Houlihan deserves the world, did I write a follow up to yesterday in an hour? yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stregatrek/pseuds/Stregatrek
Summary: 5 times Radar interrupts+1
Relationships: Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Femslash February 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619296
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Frequency

1.

The first time Margaret finds the confidence to slip into Helen’s tent in the middle of the night, robe only halfway fastened, she supposes it’s only what she deserves that they’re in the middle of a heated kiss when Radar runs through the camp shouting “Choppers!”  


She does let out a frustrated sigh, but she puts her head cautiously out the door and runs to pre-op, getting into her scrubs straight over her pajamas.  


2.  


It’s mid-day, and she really should know better, but Helen is so beautiful and the time they’re going to have is so short. Helen’s got her hand up the back of Margaret’s shirt, sighing “Maggie,” into her ear, and they have the barest half-second warning when Radar walks in, nose buried in a pile of requisition forms.  


“Hello Major ma’am sir, I need you to sign a few of these.”  


Margaret jumps back like Helen’s last name is Burns. “Uh- sure, Radar. What have you got from- for me?”  


Radar rattles off a list of forms Margaret barely hears, her ears ringing with the sound of her name on Helen's lips.  


3.  


Being summoned to Colonel Potter’s office is always either a pleasure or an ordeal.  


When Radar knocks on the door of Margaret’s tent while she’s on her knees, kissing up the inside of Helen’s thigh, it’s decidedly the latter. “It’s nearly midnight!” Helen hisses, surprised.  


Margaret gets to her feet sharply and pins her hair back. “Just a second, Radar! We were just having a little, uh, girl time,”  


4.  


It’s getting ridiculous.  


They’d seen a movie, watched other couples sneak off for the supply shed or the edge of the minefield, had a drink at the officers’ club with some friends, even danced while the Father played piano. A perfect evening, or as close as one could come in a MASH unit. Sure enough, just as they were moving from kissing to touches, Margaret’s almost-barricaded-enough door was pushed open.  


“Choppers!” Radar shouted in.  


Margaret groaned and hung her head on Helen’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,”  


“Don’t be. Go do your work,” Helen smiled. “We’ll get there,”  


5.  


Margaret had it all figured out. The Colonel was finally taking some R&R, she’d figured out the most effective barricade for her door, and she’d told five different people that she’d be in five different places. BJ was even covering for her in post-op, the dear.  


She was taking her sweet time, having taken off Helen’s shirt, her stockings, kissing across her chest and working at the fastenings of her skirt. The door rattles, and they both freeze, thinking that if they hold still enough the person there will think no one is home.  


And then there’s a knocking on the door frame. “Major, ma’am? Can you come take a look at Flopsie? She’s not actin’ right, and BJ’s in post-op with Hawk, and Major Winchester tol’ me to go away, an’ an’ I’m really worried about Flopsie.”  


Margaret sighed. Helen looked at her with understanding. “Yes, Radar! Be right there- I’m- I’m redecorating. Let me move things back and I’ll come take care of Flopsie.”  


“Oh, thank you, Major Houlihan, I really appreciate it,”  


“I really _don’t _,” Helen said softly. Margaret sighed and dropped a kiss on her temple.  
__

__“Me either,”  
__

__+1  
_ _

__“It’s my last night here,” Helen said.  
_ _

__Margaret pressed her hand to her lips. “I know,” She said. “I’ll think of something.”  
_ _

__The only thing she could think of was Hawkeye.  
_ _

__“Please. I don’t know how he does it. Every single time we’re about to- well,”  
_ _

__“Head to Oz?” Hawkeye suggested, wriggling his eyebrows.  
_ _

__“Sure,” Margaret said with a withering look. “Radar bursts in with something or other. Can you just- can you just keep him busy. Please.”  
_ _

__Hawkeye tilts his head, considering for just a moment. “No problem,” he clapped her on the shoulder.  
_ _

__Later, she would laugh along to stories of a literal wild goose chase, too many bottles of grape Nehi, and the most hare-brained, company clerk-distracting shenanigans she could have wished for.  
_ _

__But at the time, all she cared about was that she was alone with Helen. It was dark, the camp was quiet, and they were together. Finally, she got to talk with Helen in hushed, reverent tones, lying beside her in her tiny military-issue bunk. Fingers tracing across skin, lips kissing along trails of freckles.  
_ _

__She got to laugh, and hold her, and try to forget that if she rolled over too far she’d likely bring down the thin wall of their oasis.  
_ _

__Helen kissed her, listened to her, _saw _her.  
___ _

___And when she left in an army jeep bound for Osaka the next morning, she shook Margaret’s hand and said, “I’ll write you, Maggie,” and she meant it.  
_ _ _


End file.
